


Early Season 9 Coda

by Hallemcready



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Brief mentions of Nora and April, Cas riding a motorcycle, Coda, Episode: s09e01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Language, M/M, Mark of Cain, Masturbation, Motorcycles, Pining Dean, Post-Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, canon divergent after 9x06, tattoo!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 18:46:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1698755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hallemcready/pseuds/Hallemcready
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scenes and Dean's thoughts during early season 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Early Season 9 Coda

The night the angels fell, and he stopped Sam from closing the gates of hell, Dean had been sick with anxiety. His mind was weighted with worry over what the trials had done to Sam, and worry over Cas.

He knew Cas had only been trying to do right by his family, by heaven, and knowing the angel like he did, he knew that Cas was blaming himself for being fooled by Metatron.

_If he’s alive._

Dean tries very hard not to think about that possibility, so he prays.

He goes to the chapel in the hospital, uncomfortable showing even an unconscious Sam something so intimate.

He lays it all out for Cas. He tells him about Sam, about Crowley. He tells him that he needs him, that he’s not angry. But Dean never hears the tell-tale sound of wings like he hoped.

_He fell, he probably doesn’t have wings._

He pictures wings being torn off his friend by fire as he plummets to the Earth like a comet, just like he had witnessed when he was huddled and afraid with his brother.

suddenly it's just too much. Dean jumps up and, barely making it to a trashcan, he vomits. When there’s nothing left to expel, he sits back on his haunches and wipes the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. The weariness hits him, he’s so goddamn tired.

That’s when Dean decides to do something he will later learn was one of the biggest mistakes of his life; he sends out an SOS to all angels, and hopes a decent one will hear it.

Crouched on the floor of the hospital chapel, still reeking of sick, he prays. Even at the time he knows how stupid he’s being, how reckless, but he’s out of ideas. Eventually he forces himself to his feet. Shaky and scared he scrubs a hand over his face and forces himself to walk out of the imagined sanctuary of the chapel. He gets himself a cup of shitty hospital coffee and returns to his brother’s bedside to wait.

***

When Dean finally gets a phone call from Cas he’s so fucking relieved. He had been unable to shake the images of his friend’s broken body lying in a ditch somewhere from his mind ever since the angels fell.

Dean feels the elation that he’s not dead roll through him until he remembers what else Cas just said and it leaves him reeling with the information that he’s now completely human. He tells Cas to take care of himself for once, to get his ass back to the bunker.

Some self-indulgent part of him relishes the idea of having Cas at the bunker, sharing his home with the now former angel. He doesn’t let himself dwell on the idea, he knows he’s barely home as it is with everything going on, but man does he like the idea of his friend living there, safe.

He also resolutely buries the mixed emotions of satisfaction that Cas called him even though he can’t hear Dean’s prayers, and the grief of knowing Cas will never hear his prayers again.

He doesn’t have time to dwell on any of this. Cas said he could trust Ezekial, so he will. He’s going to take him up on his offer and hope for once things work out the way he wants them to.

***

Dean is starting to get used to this whole new level of guilt and worry. His guilt over lying and manipulating his brother. His worry over the damage done to Sam’s body. Then when you add in the combination of both over why Cas still isn’t at the bunker well… no wonder Dean drinks.

When Ezekial tells him his theory about Cas being pursued by angels and reapers, it sets off a whole other level of anxiety. Everything else falls away and Dean can focus on nothing but finding him.

As they try and track him down, they come across places he’s been, people he’s met. At seeing the homeless shelter Cas stayed in Dean starts to realize that Cas must have been hungry, cold and scared. He can’t help the way his thoughts dwell on a newly human Castiel trying to manage his basic human needs with no one there to guide him, no money, and lots of pissed off angels gunning for him. The more Dean thinks about it, the angrier he becomes, though mostly with himself.

When he breaks down the apartment door and sees that reaper stab Cas he nearly blacks out. Killing her is only a small consolation as he runs to his friend. Dean lays his hands on Cas, like he can make him wake up through sheer force of will. Dean sees his wounds, his stubble, and all the other reminders that Cas had his grace ripped from him.

His anger and grief overwhelm him and he grasps for the only answer he has, he makes Ezekial heal him. Dean feels such staggering relief when the angel inside his brother brings Cas back, when he opens those blue fucking eyes of his, Dean can barely control his breathing, he feels like a puppet with the strings cut and all the strength drains out of him. The look of confusion and awe on Cas’ face when he looks up is so adorable that Dean is blindsided with the urge to kiss him. It nearly makes him double-over he feels it so strongly.

Of course being Dean he proceeds to fill all following interaction between him and his friend with as much alpha-male bravado as he can. If Cas notices anything he doesn’t say, but Dean’s pretty sure he’s too busy being relieved to be alive and safe to notice Dean’s quiet freak-out about his sexuality.

***

Dean really loves the sight of Cas in the bunker. He’s so caught up with his momentary happiness that he barely bats an eye at finding out that the focus of his confusing thoughts had sex with the reaper who later killed him.

It also means he doesn’t see it coming when Ezekial hits him with the ultimatum that forces him to make Cas leave.

 _Jesus fuck_ , Dean hopes he never has to see the look on Cas’ face after hearing he was being kicked out of the bunker ever again. That shit will be haunt him for years.

Dean watched the quiet way Cas had gathered his few meager belongings, avoiding Dean’s gaze the whole time, and left before Sam noticed so he wouldn’t have to explain something that he himself didn’t understand.

After shutting the bunker door on Cas' retreating figure a new guilt settles on top of the old in a sickening way until he can’t swallow and the sour feeling overwhelms him. He knows Sam hears him in the bathroom, but he’s grateful his brother doesn’t question him. He doesn’t know how much more he could lie to Sam right now, especially not about something so…raw.

***

After sending Cas away the weeks pass in a haze. Both Kevin and Sam continue to shoot him worried glances. He knows they see his increased drinking, he knows they see the way he barely eats. He’s thankful neither of them confront him on it.

He’s just sitting down to what promises to be a very long and painful day of research when his phone rings. Dean’s just so fucking happy for the distraction that it doesn’t occur to him who might be calling.

Speaking with Cas and not hearing that gravelly voice say the words ‘Hello Dean’ makes him ache in a whole new way, and he hates it. Dean jumps at the opportunity to see Cas, whom he’s missed more than he cares to admit, and he’s truly grateful that both Kevin and Sam assume he’s bailing because of his hatred of research. He doesn’t need them putting together how much Dean’s happiness at that moment is tied to Cas when he’s not sure he understands it himself.

The thousand mile drive goes shockingly quick. When he gets to town Dean doesn’t even stop to book a hotel room, but goes straight to the address where he tracked the phone number that Cas called from.

Of all the things he expected, this is not it. Cas looks normal, very human, and almost _happy_? Dean watches him for a while. He wants nothing more than to run in there and see his friend, he’s practically giddy with the idea, but if Cas really is happy? Dean couldn’t stomach ruining that for him. After finishing his coffee and watching his friend for another hour he decides to go inside and find out for certain how Cas really is doing before making any decisions.

Cas or _Steve_ , as he’s calling himself, doesn’t seem all that happy to see him. Not that Dean blames him, but it still cuts him pretty deep. When Cas alludes to how hard becoming human was, Dean remembers all the reasons Cas has to be angry with him right now. He finds himself falling back on bravado again, like he can’t help himself. It feels safe inside this cocoon of machismo, and Dean finds he can’t even be properly jealous about Cas’ apparent date.

Dean drives Cas to Nora’s house. He knows he’ll never be the one Cas is going on dates with, so he makes himself help the clueless guy. So what if he enjoys telling Cas how to dress? He allows his eyes to wander the small expanse of skin where his shirt is unbuttoned. His eyes take in the way his crisp white shirt is pulled taut across those broad shoulders… Dean takes a deep breath. His friend has no clue how attractive he is, and just a glimpse of collarbone does things to Dean. He really hopes this Nora woman appreciates his friend. Cas deserves to be treated right by someone in his life, and if his gaze lingers on the man’s well-toned backside as he walks up the steps to her home well… at least it’s dark and there’s no one there to see it.

***

The night after the incident at Nora’s house had been a sort of revelation for Dean. Or maybe he just finally recognized a few things he had been repressing? He really wasn’t sure, all he knew was that it had been one of the most difficult nights of Dean’s life.

Him and Cas had shared a hotel room, Dean insisted on renting one when Cas told him he’d been sleeping at the gas station. The regret Dean felt when he realized that Cas was homeless, that it was his fault his friend had nowhere to go and was forced to work at that shithole, made him nauseas. Dean bought them dinner (he was going to make damn sure Cas ate because the fact that his friend had lost weight had not escaped his notice).

He brought liquor back to the room with them, determined to give Cas one good memory of him (he realized how long it had been since they had just enjoyed each other’s company, and there was that guilt again). He gave Cas an old t-shirt of his and sweats that were a little big for the former-angel, they hung off his hips in a way that made Dean stare whenever Cas wasn’t looking. So Dean had a thing about hip bones, so what if he noticed Cas’ right? _Fuck_.

Though the conversation had almost felt like old times, it was dampened by Cas’ obvious hurt, and Dean’s shame. The fact that Dean still had not asked Cas to return to the bunker with him in the morning was like an enormous wedge between them. All of the things they weren’t saying to each other just kept piling up, and Dean didn’t know how much longer he could stand it. Every time he met his friend’s eyes, another wave of nausea rolled through him.

Dean had overcompensated for most of the evening, trying to act like nothing had changed between them, desperately trying to feel like nothing had changed, but Cas had remained especially quiet. It would have been easier to handle if Cas had been angry with him, but no, his usually stoic face had shifted back and forth between longing and pained for most of the night.

At one point Dean had momentarily forgotten about the strain on their relationship, lost in the happy camaraderie and easy conversation they were finally starting to enjoy (the half a bottle of Jack had helped). They were sitting on the hotel beds opposite each other, actually smiling, when Dean decided to share a story he found hilarious. Kevin had walked in on Sam in the shower room at the bunker during a very private moment and Sam had screamed like a girl, it had tickled Dean for days. Dean initially thought it would make Cas smile, forgetting about the fact that he had kicked Cas out of the bunker. When he looked up through his laughter Cas looked stricken. Dean had stopped laughing then, his breath punched out of him by the weight of bitter guilt.

“Cas, I.. I’m so sor-“

“Good night Dean.” Glassy eyed, voice low and hoarse, Cas cut him off. He laid down on his bed, facing away. Dean was left with the t.v. still on some late night infomercial, his bedside lamp casting a garish yellow light across the room, and what was left of the whiskey on the floor between them.

He felt sick.

He had turned off the light then and muted the television before climbing into his own bed. He knew he couldn’t sleep, so he stared at the silent images of a man selling some useless crap, willing himself to speak. He strained to hear Cas’ uneven breathing, confirming that he wasn’t sleeping either.

“I’m so fucking sorry Cas… I’ve really missed yo-“, Dean’s voice thick with unshed tears broke through the stifling silence, but Cas abruptly grabs his pillow and covers his head, trying to block out the sound of Dean’s apology. He cut himself off then, not missing the sound of Cas’ stilted breathing, his _crying_. Dean let his own tears fall then. He had fucked things up so badly.

Dean finished what was left of the liquor at some point after pulling himself together. Very buzzed and more melancholy than ever, he laid on his side and watched Cas sleep. The former angel had eventually rolled over during the night, the pillow no longer over his head, and his shirt had ridden up. In the flickering light of the t.v. Dean noticed a tattoo on Cas’ abdomen. He couldn’t stop staring. He wasn’t sure from as far away as he was, but it looked like enochian. Dean tried to stop ogling his friend, he really did, but the beautiful lettering on that toned stomach did things to him. His eyes flickering between the tattoo and the exposed jut of hip bone, it suddenly hit him… Dean realized he was _hard_.

He immediately looked up at his friend’s face to confirm he was still asleep, he really didn’t want Cas to catch him watching, and his breath stuttered. Cas’ plump lips were slightly parted, his face relaxed and young in a way Dean had never seen. He was beautiful.

Dean couldn’t help the soft sigh that escaped his lungs at the sight. He also couldn’t run from the knowledge anymore. Dean thought Cas was gorgeous, and staring at him had made him impossibly hard.

 _Fuck_.

Dean rolled over and shut his eyes, trying very hard not to think about the former angel sleeping a few feet from him. The incredibly sexy former angel.

 _Damnit_.

Eventually his inebriation and exhaustion won out and he fell into a fitful but thankfully dreamless sleep.

The mournful look on Cas’ adorably sleepy face when he woke up the next morning would haunt Dean for a long time. Dean made sure he brought Cas a good breakfast but his friend barely touched it. He used Dean’s shower before dressing for work, Dean was very sorry to see the t-shirt and sweats go.

Saying good-bye to him in the car, when all he wanted was to take him home, had been one of the hardest things he could remember ever doing. He had had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from reaching for the man, he felt a warm sting under his fingertips when he drew blood. He could barely look at Cas it hurt so much. He could tell Cas had wanted to say something, but instead he gave an adorable awkward wave and reluctantly went back to his minimum wage job. Dean watched him walk away, torn between his heartache at leaving Cas, and his guilt. His guilt intensified when he realized he wanted to stare at his friend’s ass as he unlocked the storefront.

 _Fuck_.

_Could Dean be any more inappropriate?_

As Dean drove back to bunker, he had to resist the urge to turn around, fuck Ezekiel he thought, and drag Cas back with him. He kept telling himself repeatedly over the 1000 mile drive home that he would fix it later. He could explain after Sam was healed and things would be okay, Cas would be okay.

When he got back to the bunker he avoided Sam and Kevin. He knew at least one of them would notice something was off and he didn’t feel like having them try to force it out of him. He doesn’t remember making the conscious decision to do it, he just remembers going into one of the spare rooms and dragging the extra nightstand and lamp into his room. Sam had given him a few strange looks but he never said anything. It wasn’t until Dean was finished and laying down on his bed that he realized what he had just done. He sat up quickly and looked over.

He had made his room ready for a second person. He was laying on the left side of the bed, his side of the bed. Why the fuck did he have a side in his own room? _Oh- fucking hell_. As much as he tried he couldn’t stop the images in his mind of Cas coming back to the bunker. Cas sharing his room. Cas and that damn tattoo. Cas-

Dean reached over and turned off the lamp, he put on his headphones and tried to lose himself in the music. But those thoughts kept coming, and he knew if he let his mind wander where exactly they would take him. Maybe if he just let it happen this one time he could start getting past it. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a big deal if he got it out of his system?

So Dean let his mind wander. He pictures Cas’ toned body, his tattoo, and his mouth on that body. He can almost feel the sensation of skin on skin, the rough scrape of stubble. Before he realizes what he’s doing he’s fisting his cock roughly as the images in his mind grow exponentially dirtier. He comes faster and harder than he has in years, vaguely registering the sensation of cum cooling on his chest.

 _Fuck_.

***

Seeing Cas after receiving the mark of Cain was worse. Cas had been calling and texting Dean several times a day since he left them standing on that pier. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t want to talk to Cas, he was aching for it, but he didn’t feel like he deserved it. He wanted it too much and there was no way he would allow himself something that would make him that happy.

He tried to set a limit on how many times he would listen to Cas’ voicemails, the warmth he felt at hearing that gravelly voice balanced out by guilt at worrying his friend. Until finally the tone changed in one of the messages, the angel’s voice taking on a desperate edge, and Dean’s worry outweighed his self-loathing, he decided to call Cas (after finishing the bottle of scotch in his hand of course).

“Dean?” Cas answered cautiously.

“Hey Cas” Dean slurred, obviously inebriated.

“I’ve been calling... Where are you?”

“It d-doesn’t matter Cas…”

“Dean tell me where you are, it’s very important.”

“Are you in tr-trouble Cas? ‘Cause ya know…. I’m not exactly the best person if you need help…I’ll probably j-just fuck it up…”

“Just… shut up Dean… where are you?” Cas’ irritation makes his voice drop even lower than normal.

Dean rattled off the name and address of his hotel before thinking about it too much. He really wanted to see Cas, but he told himself he only gave in so he could stop worrying his friend and then he’d make the angel leave. After all, the longer he stayed with Dean, the more likely something awful would happen to him.

“I’m not too far from there. I can be there in an hour. Don’t go anywhere.”

Dean sighed after Cas hung up, he was very drunk now. It was still early evening, cool outside, and it wouldn’t be completely dark for a while yet. Maybe he shouldn’t be quite this drunk when Cas arrived, he was liable to say something he’s been repressing for a long time. Years, Dean thought, I’ve been forcing this down for years.

He decided to get some fresh air, he walked to the Impala parked in front of his room, and sat on the trunk, watching what little traffic there was on the highway go past his hotel. He tried not to glance at the face of every driver, looking for that mess of dark hair, a flash of blue eyes, he idly wondered if Cas would be driving the same car or not. He rather liked the idea of Cas behind the wheel of it, hip-hop music playing. Dean smiled to himself, for the first time in days, picturing that.

When the real thing arrived though, it was far better than he had pictured. He knew it was Cas immediately. He was wearing his slacks, they were really fucking snug across his ass and thighs, and his white button up, first few undone, sleeves rolled up over his forearms, and a black helmet that came down over his face.

Oh yeah, and he was riding a fucking _motorcycle_.

It was some sort of small Harley, a sportster or something, black and loud. The thought that it matches the Impala with its sleek black paint job and chrome finishes skitters through his mind, all while he tries not to think about how incredibly attractive Cas looks on it. Images of the angel’s lean muscled body straddling that machine were likely to replay in his mind for at least the next few decades.

Cas pulled off the highway and parked next to the Impala. The thought occurred to him then how confident Cas looked riding it, not just the way he carried himself on it but the way he drove. He handled it like a seasoned biker, maybe it was his new found mojo or something but damn, was it a sight to behold.

Cas killed the engine, and pulled his helmet off. Dean couldn’t help but notice that the angel’s hair was even more mussed than normal, and the urge to run his fingers through it was momentarily paralyzing him. Cas wore a small smile on his lips at seeing Dean. Between the sex hair and his flushed happy face he had the look of someone… _freshly fucked_ and it was seriously doing things to Dean.

“Hello Dean,” and there it was, those two words in that voice that made his heart skip every fucking time.

“Hey Cas,” Dean rasped out, clearing his throat. He was less drunk now, but most definitely not sober. He watched the angel climb off the bike and tried (really he did) very hard not to stare at his ass as he bent down to retrieve his trench coat from a small compartment on the back of the bike. Something like remorse flickered in the back of his mind at the fact that his original coat had not survived his fall.

“Didn’t want to wear it on the bike huh?” his eyes taking in the lean lines of Cas’ torso as he raised his arms and slid it on. It hid his incredible body but that coat just looked right on him. It was strangely even more attractive despite that fact it hid his form from Dean’s view.

“It’s really not practical,” Cas paused then, taking in Dean’s disheveled state, his beard almost a week old. “Are you alright Dean?”

Dean can only take in the worried expression on his friend’s face for a few seconds before he’s turning away, face toward the sky. Dean takes a deep breath and realizes his eyes are wet, several tears streaking his face before he can stop them. He hadn’t realized exactly how raw he had been feeling and Cas’ soothing presence made him so fucking relieved he was momentarily over-whelmed with it. Damnit.

When had he become such an emotional drunk?

Cas circles around the Impala quickly, coming to stand in the V of Dean’s legs, his hands hot as they rest on the hunter’s thighs. To anyone walking by this would look like an incredibly intimate gesture, and Dean supposes it is, but not quite in the way it appears.

Cas’ thumbs slowly rub small soothing patterns into the flesh of Dean’s thigh, “Talk to me.” Using Dean’s words from what feels like a million years ago, in that fucking broken voice, makes the emotion well up in Dean’s throat. The angel sounds like he may break apart simply by witnessing this display of vulnerability.

Dean exhales, opening his eyes and meets the gaze of the angel he’s been trying very hard not to think about for the last week, now standing directly in front of him and deep into his personal space.

“A motorcycle huh?” Dean’s deflecting and they both know it. Cas’ eyes narrow minutely, he’ll allow it for now.

“Yes. I was being pursued by angels and was forced to pick a vehicle that could…out maneuver theirs. I plan to go back for the car if I can, I’ve grown rather fond of it. But this will do,” he finishes gesturing to bike. Cas is being cagey about what happened with the other angels, Dean knows it’s because Cas doesn’t want him to worry at how serious the situation had been, or maybe still is, but he can read it on the angel’s face regardless.

“Hmm, well…it’s working for you. You look…comfortable, riding it I mean.” Dean flushes a little under Cas’ scrutiny. _Shit_ , he had almost tipped his hand to Cas just then.

The angel watches Dean’s face, he notices the flush though he’s not sure what it means. He doesn’t say anything.

“Thank you, Dean.” He pauses then and steps away from Dean, coming around to stand next to the hunter, leaning back against the muscle car. Dean’s thigh tingles where Cas lets his waist lean on him.

Dean misses the charged atmosphere they’d shared standing so close, the air somehow more relaxed now that Cas is at his side instead of…well, Dean refuses to think about how he’d hoped Cas would close the distance. Feeling his friend’s warmth like this is grounding for him… if only momentarily.

He suddenly realizes that, without it, he had felt adrift, lost to the shame and anger and self-hatred he’d been stewing in since they last saw one another. He doesn’t want this comfort, it will only hurt more when Cas leaves. _Cas is always leaving_ , Dean’s mind bitterly supplies. Except not anymore, it was Dean who had caused the leaving the last several times.

Dean clears his throat then, he wants to tell his friend what is going on, what’s bothering him, but he doesn’t know how. He can’t voice it no matter how hard he tries. He thinks Cas probably knows a lot of it anyway.

“Thanks for coming Cas. I’m sorry I didn’t answer any of your messages. I’m an ass. I just…” he trails off then, feeling the angel’s gaze warm his face like the sun. He won’t meet his friend’s eyes, afraid he’ll break apart completely and spill everything he’s been burying at Cas’ feet. “I just, don’t know what to say. No one hates me more than me…right?” he parrots Crowley’s words, realizing just how right the demon had been. Dean shrugs and looks down the road, away from his friend completely. A warm weight settles on his forearm then. He looks down to see those long slender fingers settle over his skin, Cas’ palm soothing him, bringing him back to himself. The angels thumb moving in slow patterns across his skin leaving him tingling. Dean briefly wonders when the angel became so tactile, but he’s not going to question something he’s so clearly starved for, the touches seem like the next logical step after years of having virtually no personal space around the hunter.

“This is…true.” Cas sighs then, but doesn’t remove his hand.

They sit that way for a moment, just comfortable in each other’s presence, when suddenly Cas is gripping his forearm painfully.

“Ouch! What the fuck man?” Dean tried to wrench his arm out of his friend’s grip but Cas only tightened his hold.

“Is that…the mark of Cain?” Cas’ voice growled, nearly spitting the last word.

Dean flinched, not just because the hand on his arm was sure to leave marks, but because he had never heard that tone from Cas directed at him before.

“Yeah Cas…he gave it to me so I could kill Abaddon with… the first blade. I did what I had to.” Dean tries to keep the defensive tone from his voice but he suddenly feels so tired. He didn’t want to fight right now, or push Cas away. He wanted to be selfish, he wanted the angel’s company. Dean lets Cas manhandle him as he pushes his sleeve up to examine the mark, he doesn’t fight him. Eventually Cas loosens his grip with a big sigh.

“Dean…do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Cas’ voice was barely a whisper. It hurt Dean more than the angry tone he heard just a moment earlier.

“Doesn’t really matter, it’s already done.” Cas releases his arm at that, and Dean rubbed at the blossoming bruises.

“Dean…Dean look at me.” Dean sighed and closed his eyes. After a moment he turned his face to his friend and opened them. Cas looked so damn hurt, and worried for him. Like he was itching to do…something, but he was holding back. Their eyes meet and any resolve Dean had was gone.

“Get over here Cas.” Dean mumbled, holding his hand out. Cas hesitantly stepped back around to stand between Dean’s knees. Dean reached for him, his fingers closing around the angel’s coat sleeve.

“What are you doing Dean?” Cas sounded so unsure and…hopeful?

“What does it look like? I want a fucking hug. That alright with you?” Dean bit out his reply. He knew Cas would know the harsh tone was because he didn’t like feeling so vulnerable. Cas steps into Dean’s embrace then. A small smile on his face.

“Yes, that is alright Dean.” He says quietly.

Dean pulls him in roughly. After a moment’s hesitation he figures fuck it, in for a penny… and buries his face into the space between Cas’ neck and shoulder. Their arms wrap around each other with such force that Dean’s breath stutters. He closes his eyes and inhales the clean musky scent of Cas, with something else…is that motor oil? Must from the motorcycle and _goddamn_ is that hot.

They stand there pressed together from head to hip. Dean replies to Cas, his voice muffled by the fabric of his trench coat, “So happy to have your approval.” He feels Cas’ smile against his neck, accepting Dean’s sarcasm as an acknowledgement of the moment.

Part of Dean wants to feel uncomfortable, but the rest of him really doesn’t give a shit. He needs this right now, and Cas is willing to give it. Hell, the guy probably needs it just as much. Dean soon realizes though that he didn’t quite think this through because he feels the familiar tingle of arousal pooling in his belly.

 _Fuck me_.

Dean tries to put a little room between them, completely failing at being nonchalant. That’s when Cas steps even closer, like he was trying to occupy the same space as Dean or something, and Dean knew Cas felt his erection dig into his toned abdomen.

“Uh…Cas?”

“Shut up Dean. You’re not the only one who’s been…dealing with things. Maybe I need a fucking hug.” The surge of shame he feels definitely dampens the arousal, though it’s not completely gone. He also can’t help but chuckle at the angel’s use of profanity as he uses Dean’s words against him. If he can manage not to grind against his friend he might make it out of this increasingly intense embrace without embarrassing himself. But why didn’t Cas mind that he was turned on? Maybe he didn’t notice? Or didn’t care? Whatever the reason, Dean was grateful. Eventually Cas steps back, and Dean can’t help but notice he looked…flushed? Maybe he had noticed and he was disgusted by Dean? Or-  
“Stop thinking so hard Dean. Let’s go inside.”

Dean allows Cas to pull him off the Impala and into the motel room. Cas forces him to sit on the bed, then grabbing a chair from the small make-shift dining area, he’s turns it around and sits straddling the back of it. The sight is irrationally arousing and Dean’s not sure when everything the angel did started turning him on but he shifts to hide the tent in his pants.

“So what was so important Cas? ‘Cause I gotta say, Sam’s probably more equipped to help you.”

“I don’t want Sam’s help.” Cas sighs, he sounds hurt when he speaks and it serves to remind Dean of all the ways he’s wronged his friend. It makes Dean feel sick again.

“I’m sorr-“ Dean starts but Cas doesn’t let him finish.

“Just shut up Dean.” Cas all but yells. It startles Dean, he feels his eyes go wide for a few seconds before covering his surprise. Cas continues, “I’ve been worried about you Dean, and yes that is important. You weren’t answering your phone, you disappeared after the pier. I thought something had happened to you. Obviously I was right.” Cas adds that last part sharply gesturing to Dean’s forearm.

“I know Cas alright, but it’s the only way to kill Abaddon. I’ll deal with the fallout later, but it’s something I had to do. So just drop it alright?” Dean replies wearily. He knows there are things he doesn’t know yet. He’s not sure he wants to know.

“You don’t understand what it’s going to do to you Dean. There will come a point when you won’t even be you anymore. Do you hear me?” Cas’ voice barely louder than a whisper makes the hair on Dean’s neck stand up. “You won’t care anymore. I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it when that day comes.” Cas is looking anywhere but at Dean. It makes all of that guilt and pain return. Dean swallows around the lump in his throat.

“We’ll figure it out, okay Cas? There are certain things that I will always care about. You hear me? I know I’m no good at showing it, but I will care about what’s important.” The implied ‘I’ll always care about you’ seems to be understood and Cas relaxes marginally. He still looks scared as hell, and if the ‘badass warrior of heaven’ he knows is scared, then that scares the shit out of Dean.  
They talk a while longer, and Dean is relieved to hear that Sam is better. Grateful to his friend for healing his brother. The subject brings the things he’d been stewing about back to forefront of his mind, but he feels a fraction better knowing that Sam is healthy again. Cas seems to understand the cause of Dean’s shift in mood. He tries to change the subject then.

“So you really like the motorcycle?”

The change in topic catches Dean off-guard and reminds him of the image the angel makes riding it. He shifts on the bed, determined not to make Cas uncomfortable by letting him see how much the idea affects him.

“Yeah, I mean…I like the car too but the bike is pretty awesome man.” Dean hopes he sounds much more nonchalant than he feels.

“It reminded me of the Impala.” Cas says quietly as he stares at his hands. After a minute he looks up at Dean through thick eyelashes and Dean swears the room just gotten degrees warmer.

Dean clears his throat. “Yeah… me too.”

He doesn’t miss the warm smile on Cas’ face as he looks back at his hands and it momentarily thaws something deep within him he thought had frozen over.

**Author's Note:**

> So there was meant to be more to this but after the events of Jibcon I don't see myself writing anymore destiel, not at least any time in the foreseeable future. I apologize if this ends somewhat abruptly but I didn't want to delete it and I can't add to it.
> 
> I have not read through this since the last time I worked on it so I hope there aren't too many mistakes.
> 
> Thank you all for everything. I don't regret being a part of this fandom because I made some incredible friends.


End file.
